


Does not delight in evil

by Koan_abyss



Category: DC Extended Universe, DCU (Comics), Injustice: Gods Among Us
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Hugs, M/M, Whump, it's Injustice, well of Course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29465991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koan_abyss/pseuds/Koan_abyss
Summary: After the destruction of Metropolis, Bruce follows Clark to the Fortress of Solitude.What would happen if Wonder Woman, Batman and Superman made different choices in the Injustice universe.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Lois Lane
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	Does not delight in evil

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Non gode dell’ingiustizia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26819995) by [Koan_abyss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koan_abyss/pseuds/Koan_abyss). 



> I've tried to translate a fic of mine that I wrote for a sort of 'What If' Contest. I don't think it's necessary to have read the whole Injustice (well, I didn'tXD) to understand the story. 
> 
> The title is from 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (it makes more sense in italian, where is used the word 'ingiustizia', literal translation of 'injustice')  
> 4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
> 
> I'm no translator and English is not my native language, so you're going to find a lot of mistakes, I'm afraid. Corrections are welcome!

There are sounds he can’t ignore, sounds he notices unconsciously, willing or not. Calls for help. Gunfire. Lois’s heartbeat.

Lois’s heart is always resonating in his ears, even when he’s halfway around the world; it’s the first sound coming back after a fight, when he can again afford distractions. When they’re together, like that night, he lets it lull him to sleep.

That night, something wakes him up. There’s Lois’s heartbeat and there’s something else. Softer, faster.

He sits up and looks at his wife.

“Clark? What’s wrong?”

It’s the sound of two heartbeats coming from one person.

Clark is overwhelmed by possibilities. He can’t stand still, he panics, probably, until Lois throws him a book.

Then she puts her arms around his neck. “Can we set aside STAR Labs and the hypothetical schools our baby is going to attend? Take a little time for ourselves to be happy with the news, just you and I?”

Clark smiles and kisses her.

They talk for hours, then, about what will happen. No plans, only thoughts, opportunities, hopes. So much hope.

It’s an hour before dawn and Lois struggles to keep her eyes open, laying on his chest.

“You can fly and tell Bruce as soon as I fall asleep,” she says yawning.

Clark laughs, happy, and kisses her again.

\---

The thug’s jaw breaks under his fist. Bruce spins and hits the second man to the temple, knocking him out. The third throws himself at him from a Dixon Docks’ alley, armed with a lead pipe.

“Maybe I should have called.”

“It’ll be quick,” he says to Clark, leaning against a humid brick wall.

He’s wearing his uniform, arms crossed.

“Well, then, I’ll be upstairs, when you’re done.” He flies away.

Bruce joins him on a roof after incapacitating the rest of those traffickers. Clark’s facing toward the bay, toward the City of Tomorrow.

“Lois’s pregnant,” Bruce says and Clark looks at him, bewildered.

“How do you…”

“You got that dopey face you make when you’re inspired and hopeful, but you’re trembling. You can’t stop looking towards home: you just leaved and you already wish to be back.”

Clark smiles and closes his eyes. “Its heartbeat woke me up, tonight, Bruce. I can hear it now, too.”

Bruce keeps quiet. Slowly, he starts to smile as well.

\---

“You’ll be careful, right?”

Lois is pulling her jeans up hopping around on one foot, so she glares at him over her shoulder briefly, not to lose her footing. “That’s not the first time I get out at night for an investigation, Clark.”

It’s the first time since they discovered they are expecting a baby, the week before, though. “I know.”

“You know this will happen again. I won’t leave my job.”

“I know.”

“It’s not even like you’re not equipped with alien superpowers to make sure I’m fine in every moment!” Lois scrolls her head and pats his cheek.

Clark smiles, a little embarrassed. Then he looks at the huge glass windows, he frowns.

“What’s going on?”

“Bruce is in Metropolis. At STAR Labs.”

“Then you better go and take a look,” Lois says with a quick kiss. “I’m going. You two save the world.”

At STAR Labs there’s a kryptonite leakage, Clark feels it as soon as he enters the building. From the researchers’ faces and from Bruce’s careful blank expression, Clark could bet some has been stolen, too. He arches a brow and Bruce chooses not to be stubborn.

“The lab suffered a theft of equipment and of a fair amount of kryptonite.”

“Kryptonite you were using for…?” Clark asks the lab manager currently answering Batman’s questions.

“Nothing bad, Superman! Research on clean energy sources, nothing that could do you any harm! That’s also why we called Batman and not you, we didn’t want to expose you to—”

“I got everything under control. You should go,” cuts in Bruce. “It’s already affecting you.”

His tone is firm, and Clark smiles, because he feels his worry under the irritation for Superman’s trespassing at his crime scene. “Everything’s fine, Batman. Now that I’m here, I want to help.”

Bruce stares at him, then addresses the lab manager: “Let’s make this quick.”

It doesn’t take long to process the crime scene, maybe twenty minutes. He and Bruce get outside, they fly over the city each in his own way.

Bruce is summing up what they know, but Clark freezes suddenly. He can’t hear anything.

“Superman? What’s wrong?”

Clark disappears. He flies, searches, listens. He comes back to Bruce in few seconds, a bloodstained playing card in his hand.

“I can’t find her, I can’t find Lois! Bruce, please, help me!”

\---

Bruce deploys the League.

The League finds the Joker.

\---

And then, two heartbeats coming from one person stop beating.

\---

Every monitor in the cave is broadcasting the news of Metropolis’ destruction, of the explosion, of the sheltering activities for those evacuated from the area, of the world’s stunned grief.

Of Joker’s death and of Superman.

Dick and Damian have been staring at the screens for hours.

“Shouldn’t you be training?” Bruce says. He’s watching Jim Gordon coming out of the Police Station, answering ‘no comment’ to the storming journalists.

Dick shakes himself out of his stupor. “We shouldn’t… Bruce, shouldn’t we do something?”

“Wayne Foundation is being mobilized to find rescue centers for the refugees, the labs are making arrangements to offer radiation containment devices. The League is covering the rest. Batman is useless, in this scenario,” he answers. Damian hasn’t said a word yet. “If you are not fit to train, go to sleep,” he orders.

He hears Dick sighing and standing. “Come, Dami, let’s go to have breakfast.”

Damian takes a second to react, but then he stands, too. “Don’t call me like that!”

Bruce listens them going upstairs to the manor, as he mutes the volume and reads the lips of a journalist asking Gordon if he could confirm Superman involvement in Joker’s death while in GCPD custody.

There’s someone in the Cave he didn’t hear approach.

“Diana.”

“Bruce. Forgive my intrusion.” Diana moves toward his workstation with her chin high. Her face is grave but firm. “I preferred to come in person.”

“You’re always welcome,” he says automatically.

Diana pauses, in front of that statement. “I did not stop him,” she says, in the end. She averts her eyes. “I found him there, in the wreckage, holding Lois’ body. I could not bear him believing it was his fault.” Her eyes get back to Bruce’s. “I knew inside me where he would go and I did not stop him. I did not want to. I thought the Joker deserved it, that Clark deserved to have his vengeance.”

Bruce purses his lips. “You thought a man handcuffed and in no position to do further harm deserved to be slaughtered by Superman?”

“You know I don’t share yours qualms.”

“I believed you preferred facing your enemies as equals, on the battle-field. This was an execution.” Bruce turns his back and fixes his eyes on the screens. “Is not up to us to decide who lives and who dies.”

He hears Diana taking a step closer.

“You did not think he would have done it,” she says, slowly. “You did not believe he would have gone that far.”

“He was the best man I’ve ever met—”

“You always put him on a pedestal and now that he fell from it, you blame him!” she interrupts him.

Bruce stands, turns to face her again. “Why are you here?”

Diana crosses her arms. “None of us managed to really talk to him. I would like you go to him.”

“To say him what?” he asks sharply.

She unfolds her arms whit a small sound of regret. “He lost everything, Bruce. He may have done something you do not approve of, but he does not deserve to be left alone. You are his best friend.”

“Why don’t you go to him, if you’re so worried?”

Again, Diana crosses her arms, but this time is not a resolute gesture. “It would not… It would not be what he needs. He needs a friend. I did not stop him. I thought about his sorrow and not about the consequences. You would have acted differently, would you not?”

Bruce cannot _not_ thinking about consequences. Some already occurred, others would come: could the world allow Superman to kill with impunity?

“You did it because you care about him,” he says. Will it be good as comfort? Bruce wouldn’t allow himself to feel better, with that excuse.

“I love him dearly, as I know you do,” Diana replies.

“I don’t know where to find him.”

“Of course you know where to find him. You know him better than anyone else,” retorts Diana, almost fondly. “Go see him.”

\---

_“… eleven millions of deaths, the unthinkable outcome of a single nuclear warhead. The number of nuclear weapons in the world is estimated around…”_

_“… more than one hundred thousand people left without a home to return to…”_

_“… while public opinion is divided between dismay over Metropolis’ destruction and Superman’s actions immediately following the tragedy, hostilities in Byalia continue. The only reports come through the NGOs at the border of the country, since the internet censorship. Effortless so far…”_

He can hear Bruce approaching the Fortress of Solitude from miles away.

He hears his plan landing, hears him ordering the Fortress to grant him access, hears him proceeding relentlessly to his location, despite the screens around him that keep deafening him with the world’s ills.

He hears him because despite everything he can’t stop listening.

“Clark.”

“Do you hear them? Eleven millions dead, and still they don’t stop killing each other.” Clark scrolls his head, his eyes locked on his hands clasped, on the dried blood smearing his arm almost up to his elbow.

“Clark,” tries again Bruce.

“They didn’t understand. What would take to make them see? What I have to do?”

_“… a barbaric and indefensible act, particularly since committed by a figure…”_

“Fortress, stop playing,” Bruce orders. The screens vanish.

Clark stands abruptly, staring at him livid in the sudden stillness.

Bruce is wearing his uniform and the cowl. As usual, Clark can see only his mouth and his eyes, perfectly blank.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Bruce says. “Take some time to—”

“Do you think I need to _take a minute_? That I’ll just need some time to be ok?” Clark yells. “I’ve already wasted too much time. I should be out there, saving the world, we all should. Instead, we’re always too late, we paper over the cracks, instead of preventing evil from happening. I’m tired.”

Bruce’s lips become a thin line for a split second, then he hides again behind his blank expression.

Clark is tempted to rip off his mask, to yell in his face. He points to the screens now vanished. “I’ll start from Byalia, I’ll make them stop.”

“You can’t do something like that,” Bruce says.

“And why not? Tell me you wouldn’t do the same, in my place, if you had my powers.”

“You can’t do it, Clark,” says again Bruce, calm, composed, and steps closer. “Superman can’t afford to intervene in any conflict, now less than ever.”

“ _Now_ it’s time to—”

“You killed a man, Clark, dammit! Superman slayed a man, in front of witnesses, in a Police Station, and got away unhindered. Do you have any idea of how much you will scare the world, if you were to intervene in some armed conflict? They’re already terrified.”

“Weren’t they by any chance before? Gotham wasn’t terrified by that maniac you allowed to wander around killing people for laughs?” Clark snarls. “You should thank me: I did what you, with your principles, your bounds, never had the nerve to do.”

Bruce gets tense.

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Clark asks, his eyes widening. “It’s because I’ve taken away the Joker from you? Your great nemesis! Years chasing after each other, challenging each other! _Playing_. If you’d stop him once and for all, LOIS WOULDN’T BE DEAD!”

Bruce sways in front of him. If it were due to the weight of his accusation or an optical effect caused by the heat growing in his pupils, Clark wouldn’t know.

He turns around sharply, pressing a hand over his mouth, but it’s no use. His voice breaks when he carries on. “He took Lois away from me. Everything we used to be. I’ll never be able to wake up beside her again, watch her focusing while writing a piece. We’ll… we’ll never see our child grow up. There’s never going to be someone like me in the Universe.”

“Clark…” Bruce puts his hand on Clark’s back.

“When you arrived,” he goes on, “and shut down the screens… I hated you, for a second. I turned them on because I couldn’t stand the silence. I listened and listened, hoping… hoping to _hear them_ and… But they’re gone, there was just… I couldn’t stand it anymore.” He hears a click, two layers of kevlar rubbing on each other. “And now you— your sons are home, safe, and instead of being with them, you come here judging me for—”

“No,” Bruce interrupts him. He grabs his shoulders, turns him around. Face bare, he stares at him. “I didn’t come to judge. I… was afraid he took you away from me, too. That he managed to soil even the purest thing I knew.”

“He did.”

“No.” Bruce clings to him, holds him tight.

Clark grabs his shoulders, face pressed in his armored neck, and all he can do is sob.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce keeps saying, again and again. “I’m sorry.”

Some time has passed, when Clark comes back to himself. They’re both slumped over on the Fortress’ ground, like Bruce at some point had given up sustaining Clark’s weight. He took off his gauntlets: one of his hand is firm in the middle of Clark’s back; the other is lightly squeezing the nape of his neck.

“I can’t go back,” Clark says. “Why should I care, if they’re gonna be afraid? You do use fear.”

“Superman is a symbol of hope.” Bruce shakes his head. “You can’t save the world with fear. You broke the rules, and you’ll have to make amends.”

Clark feels another swell of anger, but it doesn’t last. He doesn’t have any strength left.

“Make amends? I must apologize, tell the world I let it down?” He starts sarcastic, but he knows it’s true. He failed. He should have done better.

He straightens his back and Bruce lets him go.

“You must decide if you have enough trust in the humankind,” Bruce says. “It would be easy thinking that, since we are not able to save ourselves alone, to stop hurting each other, you would be entitled to force us into it. Because you can.” His eyes wander around, looking for his gauntlets. “It would be easy, with your powers, saving the world from itself. Rule it.”

“I don’t want to—”

“It’s what would happen. But you’re not like that. You are an inspiration for the future, for millions of people. _They_ will save the world. And they’re not gonna have hope or faith, if you cross the line, break the rules and just ignore it. We’ll think about what to say, what to do,” he concludes. “Another day.”

Clark knows what he would say, in that moment. That he would not accept the loss of more innocent lives for an act of madness, for greed or politics. He would order the world to lay down the arms. Maybe he lost his trust in humankind for good. But he doesn’t want to tell Bruce. Not… not yet.

Bruce stands and he comes back to himself. “Another day, yes. You’d better go back to Gotham. Damian and Dick will probably need you.”

“I’ve no intention of leaving you alone, Clark,” Bruce says, with the annoying, matter-of-fact tone he usually employ to order people around. He offers Clark his hand, newly covered by the gauntlet, to help him standing. “Damian and Dick are with Alfred. Did you… talk with your parents, already? They know what happened?”

Clark gasps. For an instant, thought of ‘Ma and ‘Pa overwhelms him: the longing and the promise of comfort are endless.

“I’ll bring you to them,” Bruce says, quietly.

“So you can take an eye on me?” replies Clark. “Make sure I won’t go and launch in the sun every nuke on the planet?”

“If it wouldn’t represent an intrusion in the world most unstable superpowers’ army bases, our country included, I’d let you do it,” he says.

“You’d _let_ me do it?” Clark repeats. “You think you could stop me?” The anger comes back abruptly, together with betrayal. “You came here prepared to stop me?”

Clark is expecting Bruce to tense up, ready for fight, like him. But Bruce lowers his eyes, turns his back to pick up his mask.

“I meant that I won’t let you make rushed decisions. Decisions that could compromise your future.” He puts the mask on.

“What future, Bruce? I don’t have any—”

“You still want to save the world, isn’t it?” he asks, facing him.

“Yes.” Yes, yes, yes. Thousand time yes, despite all the rage and the pain. ‘You two save the world’ is the last thing Lois ever told him.

“Then, please, don’t do anything else rash. I know—” Bruce breaks off and swallows. “I know the last time you trusted me… I couldn’t help you. But I want to. I’ll always try if you… if you let me.”

Clark shakes faintly his head. “You can tell me this only from behind your cowl.”

“I’m not good with these things.”

“I know.”

“And it was Diana who… pushed me to come here.”

Clark huffs, almost smiles. Then he remembers Diana accepting the body of Lois and their child to keep them safe.

Ho looks at Bruce. “I wanna go home”

Bruce nods. “Let’s go.”

\---

He coaxes Clark into washing away the blood, but he doesn’t bother about his uniform. Martha and Jonathan won’t care. Bruce takes care to wear civilian clothes just because he doesn’t have super-speed to make himself scarce, if the Kent were in the company of others.

Clark remains quiet during the flight and he lets him be. He doesn’t offer him a comm to replace the one burnt by Metropolis’ radiations and doesn’t comment when Clark switch on the Batwing’s radio to listen to the news.

They arrive in Kansas by dark and land discreetly on Kent’s fields. Martha and Jonathan await them by the back door.

“Clark!”

Clark flies to Martha, makes himself small under her gentle arms.

Bruce watches them getting in while Jonathan holds the door. “Come, Bruce, son,” the man calls. He squeezes Bruce’s shoulder with a sad smile when gets into the house, then follows his wife and son.

Martha steered Clark to the couch. They’re holding into each other crying, Martha’s touch comforting in ways Bruce’s could have never been. Jonathan joins them. He keeps a hand on his son’s shoulder and nods to the broken words Clark says between a burst of sobs and the other.

Bruce thinks about Lois during one of her interview, about the night she received the Pulitzer, about her eating hamburger and fries in the dead of the night sitting on her desk. Lois, which once stole one of Bruce Wayne’s cars to follow a lead.

He shuts his eyes tight. Lois was his friend too, but he hasn’t any right to cry for her in front of her family. He retreats in the kitchen.

It’s almost dawn. Bruce is on the back porch.

“Stay. He needs you,” Jonathan says just while Bruce is contemplating the idea of leaving inconspicuously.

The man hands him out a cup of coffee.

Bruce has been listening to the Kent moving around the house. Martha managed to persuade Clark to wear some fresh clothes, but not to eat something; maybe she hopes he will be able to sleep.

Jonathan called Lois’s father. Bruce should have took care of that, but is possible that he’ll need to approach General Lane as Batman, soon or later, so it’s maybe for the best. Except for the fact that Bruce couldn’t even spare that unpleasant task to a man who just lost his daughter-in-law and a grandchild he didn’t know anything of yet.

Jonathan Kent is wrong: there’s no one who need Bruce, in that house.

“I’m just out here,” he answers. “Don’t worry about me.”

Clark joins him an hour later. Martha must have surrendered to sleep.

Clark doesn’t look like he’s really seeing the Kansas sun rising in front of them. He’s frowning and hasn’t shaved yet. Bruce suspects he himself is not in better conditions.

“I was angry. I said things I didn’t think. About you.”

“Clark, there’s no need—”

“I’m still angry. I’m not sure you convinced me.”

“What do you want to do?”

Clark exhales and runs his hands in his hair. “I want to… break something. I want justice. I want to scream to the world that it can’t go on like this.”

“You want di speak to the world? Officially?” Bruce asks. It’s not a real question: Superman _must_ address the world. It’s a matter of when, how. On which terms.

Clark nods.

“Ok. All right. Give me one more day.”

Clark side-eyes him. “Fine,” he agrees, after few seconds. “I give you a day. I’ll be at the Fortress.”

Bruce stares. “You’re not staying here?”

“I… I don’t know if I can. We’ve been here so many times… I’ve been too happy here. I imagined a million times how would have been visiting once…” He lets his words fade out, clamps his jaw.

“Come to Gotham,” Bruce says.

“Uh?”

“Come to Gotham. To my place.” He tightens his hands on the porch’s wood railing. “I don’t want to leave you alone, I told you.”

Clark’s lips tremble slightly. After a minute he nods.

Bruce allows himself to clutch his arm, now. There’s no need to speak further.

\---

_“… Decontamination activities of the metropolitan and nearby area started in record time, thanks to the efforts of the Justice League…”_

_“… Neither Green Lantern, nor Wonder Woman released a statement about Superman’s actions immediately following the tragedy. Wonder Woman, who called a press conference to the UN for this afternoon…”_

_“… I’m convinced that none of us could, in their heart, really blame Superman for what he’s done. By GCPD reconstruction, the Joker not only targeted his chosen home, but did so using the journalist Lois Lane, bound to Superman by a close working and friendly relationship…”_

_“… ‘Superman crossed the country, broke in a Police Station tearing down a wall, with the set purpose of killing. There’s no other way to see it.’_

_‘It happened so quickly: the same as for a common man to cross the road, walk up a flight of stairs in the wave of emotion! To a man who received such a shock, we will concede at least the mitigating factor of extreme emotional distress, if not temporary insanity.’_

_‘I’m sorry to interrupt you both, but isn’t this exactly the paradox? We want to judge Superman as a man, but at the same time, we have to keep in mind that he is_ not _human. How could we…’”_

\---

Clark touches down not far from the dais. Along with the cameras’ flashes and the murmuring of the crowd, he gets to the microphone prepared for him.

Diana is already there. She doesn’t speak, but she keeps close to him.

He takes place. He observes the journalists, the cameras. They observe him, his shaven face. The flawless uniform.

He’d like to spit everything out. All his suffering, his name, who Lois was to him, the life taken away from him. He doesn’t care to be seen broken.

But neither Bruce nor Diana agree: “You must think about your parents: you can’t throw Clark Kent’s name to the world. You must protect them.”

“I am sorry. I… failed you,” Clark says to the world. “I couldn’t prevent this tragedy. And in my rage for what happened, I betrayed the values I dedicated my life on Earth to.”

The crowd is still, waiting for his confession.

“I killed the Joker. I ignored my companions, who tried to stop me.” He closes his eyes. “I pray none of them will ever stand where I stood. But looking at the state of the world right now, I don’t have much hope.”

He freezes, makes an effort to breath. It would be the moment. The moment to tell he would no longer condone violent acts, he wouldn’t allow qualms to hinder him in saving innocents. That he would bring Justice, the world being ready or not.

“I disappointed you. And you are disappointing me.” The dais’ edges creak under his hands.

Neither Bruce nor Diana agree. Diana said she would be at his side no matter what. Bruce didn’t say anything.

At the Fortress, he said he would always try to help Clark, if he let him. But Clark knows there’re things Bruce can’t forgive. To keep crossing his lines would be as building a wall between them, would be the same as telling him he doesn’t want his help at all. And Clark is not sure he could save the world, without Bruce.

“I can’t be Superman, I have no right to call myself a defender of humanity, after committing a crime. I shall stand down, make amends for what I have done.”

Voices start whispering, the flashes of the cameras come back.

“Yet, I could not turn myself in, be tried as human. If found guilty, you couldn’t lock me away, unless I allowed you to. It would be my choice.”

The voices raises, questions start coming. He ignores them.

“And since it is up to me, I choose to distance myself, for the amount of time we will deem… equitable,” he concludes after a look to Diana. “I will no longer interfere with human affairs.”

He steps back from the dais, while clamor erupts.

His breathing gets labored. He doesn’t know if he made the right choice. He looks at Diana. “I need to…”

She gives him a tiny nod. “Go, do not worry. I will take them safe for you.”

Clark flies away, while she takes his place on the dais.

\---

“Find something on him. Anything. Find anyone Lane ever talked to who’s still alive. We need some kind of insurance: something or _someone_ he cares about that we can use.”

“Yes, mister President.”

“And then come up with a plan, a way to leverage it.”

“Yes, sir.”

The man shut himself up in his office, hides his eyes with his hand.

“You don’t touch families.”

The man tries to scream, but a gloved hand covers his mouth before he can draw a breath.

“Don’t call out, mister President. I’m just here to talk.”

“Batman?!”

Bruce remains in the dim light now flooding the office, but allows the man to step away. “You’re looking for something to control Superman. _Maybe_ you’ll find it. I came to tell you shouldn’t use it.”

The man stares at him, incredulous. “We shouldn’t use it? Have you seen the press conference?”

“Of course. I can imagine the sighs of relief when he said he would back off.”

“He really looked like he wanted to say pretty much something else, Batman, you must have noticed. And even what he did say wasn’t that reassuring.” The man navigates the office, reaches the liquor cabinet. “It’s his choice. That’s what he told us.”

“Yes.”

The man gets himself a drink. “Hell, at the first natural disaster, people will call upon him like the Savior. He could change his mind anytime.”

“Yes, he could. As you saw, he wasn’t completely persuaded.”

“Then you understand that we must have a solution, a trick up our sleeves.”

“I understand. I want _you_ to see that you couldn’t make worst move than use those he cares about against him. Leaving out what he could do, if the League members saw you targeting families… Let’s just say Superman is very loved and his friends can be ruthless. He choose to not interfere: don’t give him further reasons to change his mind.”

The man drinks in one gulp. “He’s a sword of Damocles hanging over our heads.”

“He’d always been, in a way.”

The man gestures to him with the glass. “You understand. You’re always prepared. Could you… stop him? Kill him? Do you have a way?”

Bruce keeps quiet. “If it comes to that, I do. But I’ll be the one to decide. I’m not your agent, I don’t take orders,” he says, eventually. “He just wants to protect the weak.”

“There’s a fine line between protect and subdue,” the man says.

But he says it to the shadows and no one else.

\---

“I should be with her. Fight at her side,” Clark says.

One of the monitor in the cave displays imagines of Wonder Woman facing two tanks on a barren stony path. The twilight sky is red and black for the smoke, the sound of shooting echoing sharp, as much as Diana’s voice: another screen broadcasts her speech to the UN, two weeks before, right after Superman’s announcement.

_“What I call and demand out of our countries, our leaders, may seem difficult, impossible to achieve. However, I know this is not true, because each one of us, inside them, hopes for it: each one of us longs to live in peace._

_Peace is not a value to be imposed from above, nor a trivial matter. It is a fundamental principle in the code of ethics of every community. A common value to the different legal traditions of the world, core to the concept of Human Dignity along with…”_

A journalist interrupts the speech: _“With these words, Ambassador Diana of Themiscyra addressed the UN, presenting a motion for halting the atrocities in Byalia and bringing new life to the debate over complete nuclear disarmament, in which have been involved several prominent figures during…”_

Bruce stops listening and considers Clark, from behind. He’s wearing jeans and one of those ridiculous check shirt. Despite the incongruity of his clothing, he’s becoming a familiar sight, in the Cave. Clark divides his time between Gotham, the Fortress and Smallville, where he officially was at the moment of Metropolis’ destruction, for the competent authorities.

His presence at the Cave is sometimes… troublesome. Clark tends to come along when he needs to blow off steam, to fight. To be convinced that attacking head-on the world and set ultimatums would not be a good idea, nor could relieve his suffering.

Dick is always glad to see him, no matter how dour and irritable, and so is Damian, unless Clark appears too suddenly, spooking him.

Alfred doesn’t approve of his presence for a myriad of reasons, not least because Damian seems to romanticize dangerously the Joker’s murder. Bruce will have to talk seriously with him soon.

“It doesn’t seem she needs help to me,” he answers eventually.

Diana knocks over a tank like a toy car. Her words are unintelligible, but it’s easy to guess she’s ordering her opponents to surrender. The tanks’ crews get out slowly from their vehicles and drop their weapons. Behind Diana, there’re glimpses of UN troops and humanitarian associations.

“No,” agrees Clark, but his fists are clenched inside his jeans’ pockets. “I wish I could just… do something. But thanks to your scheming, my hands are tied. I’ve no say over anything.”

“Clark Kent has a say. A voice,” tries Bruce, ignoring his barb, but Clark huffs.

Then he half-turns, looks sideways at Bruce. “I’d better be going.”

Bruce feels a little pang to his heart. “Stay. I’m about to go out for patrol. You could watch my back.”

“You don’t need me.”

Bruce shrugs. “Two extra ears could come handy.”

“Wanna keep an eye on me?”

“Of course. Dismantling a drug cartel is routine to me. I was thinking about adding an all-powerful alien to the equation to get things more interesting.”

Clark scrolls his head. But he doesn’t vanish into the mesosphere.

\---

Five years later

“So basically, law enforcement had the situation under control, by then, and we stepped down. Green Lantern took into custody our enemies: the Corps will take care of them,” Flash says on the monitor reserved to the communications with The Watchtower.

“Alright. Thanks to everybody. I’d say we can wrap this up, Diana, right?” says Bruce, already filing data and reports about that specific crisis. He has the feeling someone is looking at him, but he doesn’t turn around.

“I would say so, if you are satisfied with the results,” Diana answers with a smile. Then she looks over him. “Clark, is good to see you!”

“Supes’s there? Hey, bud!”

Clark approaches calmly. He looks at Bruce and gives him a small ‘hey’, before greeting the others. “It’s nice to see you too.”

All the League members present gather around the screen.

“Has been too long!”

“You should come by to the tower, someday, Superman.”

“It has been forever since our last speed race, Superman, we should see to that!” exclaim Flash at full tilt. “That’s the new uniform? I like it!”

Clark lowers his eyes to the black kryptonian fabric he’s wearing. “No, this… it’s just for when I fly. I was tired of burning all my clothes,” says eventually, not exactly with a smile, but with an almost convincing impression of one, these days.

A little less than a year before, he saved Bruce’s life, wearing that uniform. Bruce has no idea of where Clark was, when he heard cocking the hammer of the gun pointed at Bruce’s back; but before he could fall to the ground, Clark was there, ready to catch him and bring him back to the Cave, in the care of Alfred.

Bruce meets Clark’s eyes: he’s recalling that night, too.

The League keeps chatting, telling him how much all of them missed him.

“Can’t wait to see back in action, Superman,” Cyborg says. “Don’t get me wrong, we manage just fine, but it wasn’t the same, without you.”

Clark makes again that non-smile and looks away.

“There is no hurry, of course, but be aware that we will be more than happy to have you back, Clark, when you feel ready. After all, the deadline for your banishment has passed,” intervenes Diana, sweetly. She doesn’t put pressure, but let Clark know what she feels, what the whole League feel.

The debate dubbed ‘Superman Trial’ never reached an irrevocable end, but experts and public opinion suggested a penalty for his actions, taking account of circumstances as much as possible, and of all Superman’s good deeds: four years and four months.

The world, almost entirely, would welcome Superman’s return. However, while it’s true that his sentence is widely expired, it’s also true that the Anniversary of The City of Tomorrow’s Loss is near, and Bruce knows that Clark has yet to take a decision about his future.

“The world doesn’t really need me, when there’s all of you protecting it,” Clark says to Diana. “But I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bruce thinks is because Clark finally found his own way to help that soothed his anxious desire to save the world alone. As esteemed journalist and survivor of the tragedy, Clark Kent became one of the strongest and most influential voices in the campaign for nuclear disarmament and against firearms. As journalist, Clark has never been a bigger source of inspiration. Bruce suspects also that he doesn’t wear the new uniform _just_ for flying, from time to time. 

“We will always do our outmost to keep the world safe,” Diana says.

“But what if we had to face an invasion from insectoid aliens? You know they terrify me. Or a global rise of the machines?” Flash asks.

Hawkman chuckles and Cyborg scrolls his head.

“If we were to face a lethal menace, superior to our only forces, would you fight at our side?” gets to the point Martian Manhunter.

Clark crosses his arms, rests his side on the computer desk, next to Bruce, and pretends to consider it. “In that case, yes,” he says after few seconds.

The League cheers.

“You haven’t gotten rusty, in these years, have you?” says Aquaman.

“Batman didn’t let me grow lazy,” Clark answers, with another long gaze to Bruce.

“Someone has to keep you all in line,” he says.

The others keep fooling around for a few minutes. Clark listens more than talking. When Diana finally shut down the feed, he closes his eyes for a little bit.

Bruce stands and dithers for a moment. He can focus on his work and let Clark alone, let him time to gather his thoughts, if he came to talk.

Clark opens his eyes before he can take a decision. “Where’re the boys?”

“Damian went to the movies with Dick and Barbara. There may or may not be another girl involved,” he says.

Clark smiles and it’s more real, this time. Then he gets serious again.

Bruce removes his cowl and his cape, Clark’s gaze over him as increasingly often happens, nowadays. When he puts down both items beside the computer, Clark gets closer; wedges himself between Bruce and the desk, hugs him, his forehead on Bruce’s shoulder.

“May I?” he asks quietly.

Bruce nods, standing still. It isn’t such an exceptional event between them. Clark’s always been… chummy, and sometimes is easier staying close than talking. Bruce listens to his breathing.

“I think Alfred forgave me,” Clark says after a while.

Bruce can’t prevent his heart to speed up. Alfred never appreciated Clark’s position over the Joker’s death, and certainly not his desire to straighten up the world by force. But now, that Clark’s more at peace with himself, and after what happened the year before, when he saved Bruce’s life…

Bruce raises a hand to lay it on Clark’s back, fingers barely touching his vertebrae. “I’m glad.”

“What about you, did you forgive me? Or you’re still angry at me?”

“I… I’ve never had the right to be angry with you,” he says.

Diana was right from the beginning: Bruce had always idealized Clark and blamed him when he turned out not to be up to Bruce’s standards. Bruce demands a lot from himself and from the others. But he’s been unfair with Clark.

Clark huffs quietly against his neck. “You’ve always thought me better than what I actually was. You kept believing it, with your usual stubbornness, and acting like it was the truth.”

“Maybe it’s true for me, no matter what.”

Clark holds him harder and Bruce thinks about all his stolen glances at the Cave or at the Manor, about his own name uttered like a prayer under freezing rain, while the echo of a gunshot still rings in his eardrums. Nevertheless, nothing can happen, not even after five years, not when Clarks still seems shocked every time he happens to laugh, as he remembered suddenly that he can’t be happy.

Yet now, if Alfred has forgiven him… Bruce puts his arms around his waist.

Clark raises his face. “I’m ready,” he says, and kisses him.

\---

Bruce’s incredulous and tentative, under his hands, on his mouth, like Clark could change his mind all of a sudden, after all the waiting and the time spent thinking about what he wanted.

So typical of him: despite all evidence and clues, the World’s Greatest Detective is always unsure when it comes to feelings.

This time though, Clark is sure enough for the both of them and little by little Bruce stops trying to keep his heart level, to hide himself.

Clark lets that sound thundering in his ears, strong and deep, wild and joyful, and lets it take away all the rest.


End file.
